


Habits

by prescellphone



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-22
Updated: 2015-09-22
Packaged: 2018-04-22 22:06:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4852235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prescellphone/pseuds/prescellphone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gaby suggests a drinking contest with Illya and Napoleon. Ridiculous amounts of fluff for the trio. Gallya thrown in because I can’t stop myself</p>
<p>Music: Ribs by Lorde</p>
            </blockquote>





	Habits

**Author's Note:**

> I stopped writing about 4 years ago and I never shared any of it because I was a piece of shit and thought my writings were shit as well. Then I saw the Man from Uncle and I couldn’t stop myself. I’ve only been sending the final products to my best friend, but I decided that I love the fandom too much to not contribute my writings. So, here ya go?….

   

* * *

 

     After many months of working together, Illya, Napoleon and Gaby were getting used to each other. Not enough to stop bickering over little things, but long enough to notice each other's routines and habits. Once in a while, UNCLE would put them in extravagant hotels where they all had separate rooms, but most of the time, all three were crammed into an average hotel, sharing a bathroom and occasionally beds. The close quarters always led to ridiculous fights but it would also help to make some of their favorite moments with each other. One of those moments was this night.

     It started out as another mission where all three were shoved into a room together. Bruises and wounds were still fresh from the latest mission in Greece, but Waverly had kindly given them 3 days off to enjoy the sights and heal.

     Dragging their bags up to the fourth floor, the trio quickly fell into a similar routine that occurred at all new hotels. Illya would immediately begin to unpack his gear, setting it up on the only available desk. Gaby would trapeze through the room, pointing out new oddities before grabbing the nearest available alcohol and dropping onto the small couch. Napoleon usually would be gone to flirt with the front desk girl if she was up for it, but climbing the stairs had reopened the knife wound across his chest so instead, he was ushered to the couch to get it cleaned up.

     "You are relaxing for these three days, Napoleon. That means no strenuous activity, especially with girls running the front desk."

     Gaby ordered as she carefully pulled the bandages away from his chest. She remembered seeing the wound for the first time and at the time, it looked horrible and life-threatening covered in dark blood. However, once the blood was cleared, Gaby could fully see the clean slice and knew it was an easy fix. She liked to think of Illya the same way. He looked threatening with his height and stern face, but honestly he wasn't too bad underneath it all. She was still unsure about what this meant to her. 

     "He won't listen." Illya said from the desk he sat at. 

     "Well, I say we stay in for the night. There's plenty of alcohol here, and I know you're broke from your last gambling fiasco."

     Napoleon raised an eyebrow at Gaby as she wiped off the excess medical alcohol.

     "Cowboy is always broke."

      Stretching his arms above his head, Napoleon shook his head, "Not true. If I were broke all the time, I would never be able to dress myself so lavishly. You're the one who looks broke all the time, Peril. When was the last time you didn't wear that ridiculous hat?" 

     Gaby remembered him wearing it two days ago. Startled with herself for holding onto the memory, she took a swig of the vodka. A glare was thrown over Illya’s shoulder in Napoleon’s direction. Napoleon raised his hands, palms out, with a sly smirk.

     “Joking, Peril.”

     Napoleon strolled into the bathroom, shutting the door. Both Gaby and Illya knew he was going to take a shower. It was one of the first things in his normal routine. The room was filled with the sound of the running water as Illya moved to the armchair. A chessboard was placed on the table in front of him and he began to play quietly. Gaby grinned. It was going to be a relaxing night.

     Getting up, Gaby tossed her suitcase onto one of the beds and dug around until she found the little bag full of various beauty products.

   Illya watched her from across the chessboard as she chose a deep plum colored nail polish and plodded back to the couch. Placing her feet on the table by his chessboard, she cracked the bottle open and carefully began to paint her toenails. Illya always enjoyed it when she did such simple, domestic things. It fascinated him. He had been with plenty women in his life, but none of them had lasted enough for him to witness the small things that added to a women’s beauty. Most of the women were quick flings that disappeared after realizing that Illya was a handful. So, Gaby’s constant presence was different and educational.

     He watched as she took a small tool and grazed the extra color off the edges of her small toes. Once all of her toes were painted, she leaned back, wiggling her toes with a small grin.

     “What do you think?” Gaby smirked at Illya as he realized he was caught watching her dark purple toes.

     “Good color.” Illya grunted before turning back to his game.

     “I agree.”

     Gaby returned the polish to her small bag before grabbing her hairbrush and taking the spot in front of the fancy mirror by her bed. Letting her hair out of it’s ponytail, she brushed it gently, running her hands over the chocolate curls. She would pause every second, glancing to make sure the ends of her hair weren’t split.

     Illya smirked. When he first met Gaby, she had been learning to wear a dress that cost more than her month’s salary. She had been awkward in heels and hated carrying a purse everywhere. But she had always taken special care with her long hair. He liked when she would come back from working in the garage with oil streaks across her cheeks and her hair tied up, but it didn’t last long. She was quick to shower, making her hair soft and shiny again. On missions, she always complained how it got in her face before she would angrily through it into a messy ponytail and there were a couple times where she threatened to chop it all off. It would never happen though. He could tell by the look in her eyes, that she was proud of her hair. It was one thing she could control. Her height and small frame were something she complained about often and her outfits were dictated by her two bickering comrades. But her hair was hers and hers alone.

     As Gaby braided her hair across her shoulder, Napoleon emerged from the bathroom with his chest bare and only boxers covering his thighs. Illya rolled his eyes as Gaby turned to watch   Napoleon.     

     “Really? You couldn’t put pants on?” She questioned.

      Illya didn’t miss the way Gaby’s gaze ran up and down Napoleon’s figure with one eyebrow cocked. He dropped his eyes to the chessboard before his hands could begin to shake.

      “It’s too hot in here anyway.”

      Napoleon sat on the couch, waiting for Gaby to grab the bandages for his chest. She took one last look at her hair in the mirror before grabbing their first aid pack and plopping herself down next to Napoleon. Her small hands made short work of the bandages and soon Napoleon was twisting his body to make sure the bindings weren’t too tight. Knowing her work was done, Gaby took her own time in the bathroom to change into her pinstripe pajamas.

      “Put a shirt on.” Illya growled against his fist without moving his eyes from the chessboard.

      “Damn, Peril, you’re demanding tonight.” Napoleon grabbed a simple white t shirt out of his bag and pulled it on over his bandages. Bringing a bottle of scotch and two glasses with him, Napoleon took his seat on the couch. He poured two drinks, pushing one across the table to Illya before lifting his own glass to his lips. He was in a good mood and honestly, it was time to make the night more interesting.

      Right as Gaby opened the bathroom door, Napoleon muttered lowly, “Shame to put a shirt on. I think Gaby was enjoying the view.”

     The effect was instantaneous. Illya shoulder’s stiffened and his blue eyes snapped up to meet Napoleon’s smirk. Napoleon expected to see the anger in Illya’s blue gaze, but he could also pull out the doubt and fear cluttering Illya’s head. Napoleon swirled the scotch in his glass. Illya was oblivious if he honestly thought Napoleon was a threat.

      The doubt was quickly covered up and Illya was standing in the next second. Gaby dropped her clothes into her suitcase before turning and examining the scene in front of her. Napoleon had actually put a shirt on (she was thankful for that, she was getting frustrated at her interest in his abs) and he gently rotated his glass while his other arm stretched across the back of the couch. Illya looked murderous and Gaby didn’t miss the way his fingers tapped rapidly against his leg.

      “What is going on here?”

      Neither of the men answered. Napoleon sipped his scotch casually and Illya’s hands twitched more. Sighing, Gaby stepped over to Illya and placed herself a step away from his chest. Gaby grabbed one of Illya’s large hands and rubbed her thumb over his bruised, swollen knuckles.

      “Calm down, Illya.” Illya’s eyes met with hers before he tore his hand away from her and closed himself off in the bathroom. Gaby had barely caught a hurt glint before anger stormed in his eyes.

      Whipping around, Gaby grabbed the glass from Napoleon and downed the drink in one go.

      “Nice work with Peril, Gabes.”

      Ignoring Napoleon’s words, Gaby pointed a finger from around the glass at Napoleon, “Whatever you did is not funny. I want to have a good time tonight and if Illya is grumpy the whole night then he’ll drag me down. Now, I’m going to outdrink you guys.”

      Grabbing her vodka bottle, she filled the glass in her hand. Napoleon shook his head with a small smile. This was going to be interesting.

 

     Gaby had already finished two glasses of vodka (same with Napoleon but with scotch) and had music blaring by the time Illya stepped out of the bathroom. He had changed into a simple pair of sweatpants and t shirt and looked calm again.

     Walking up to Illya, Gaby shoved a glass full of vodka into his hands.

      “You’re two drinks behind already. Drink up.”

      Illya looked like he was going to decline, but to the amazement of Gaby and Napoleon, he took the small glass and downed it. Napoleon’s smile grew. Tonight was definitely going to be interesting.

      Gaby gave him an impressed look as he filled the glass with the vodka bottle from her hand and let the alcohol burn his throat again. She felt a small tug in her gut as Illya handed the glass and bottle back to her. She thought about his mouth tasting of the bitter vodka and quickly licked her own lips.

      “Your turn.” Illya’s voice was low.

      “I’m going to outdrink you guys.” Gaby answered stupidly before taking a sip straight out of the bottle. A smirk pulled at Illya’s mouth as he grabbed the empty glass from her and sat down in the armchair.

      “We’ll see, chop shop girl.”

      Gaby felt the excitement pool in her stomach as Illya and Napoleon poured themselves their third glass. Pushing the chessboard onto the floor, Gaby sat cross-legged in the center of the small table and poured herself another glass. Illya’s eyes had followed the pieces as they rolled across the floor.

      “I’m going to destroy you two tonight.”

      Illya nodded to appease Gaby’s ridiculous idea of out drinking them. Napoleon sighed happily.

      “We’re going to have the worst hangovers.”

     Gaby smiled wickedly at her boys before tossing the drink back.

 

     Napoleon and Illya knew Gaby couldn’t hold her liquor, but this was something different all together. She started out by stumbling to find her large sunglasses after a few shots. Napoleon and Illya watched with interest, forgetting about their conversation. After, she pulled Illya to his feet when she explained that she loved this song. Napoleon was only feeling tipsy, so he was sure that the Red Peril was barely feeling it, but none the less, it was nice to see Illya smile freely. Gaby twirled around him, taking his hands every once in a while and holding them above her, so she could spin underneath them. Mid twirl, Gaby took two shots, forcing Illya to take three (she said he was not near drunk enough), and then became serious within a second. After tossing her sunglasses away, Gaby placed her hands on her hips and stared Illya down.

      “Teach me how to punch.”

      Napoleon chuckled as he took three drinks of his scotch to catch up with them. Illya shook his head.

      “Not now.”

      “Why not? Scared that I might be good at it?”

      Illya sent a hopeless look at Napoleon, “More the opposite.”

      While he looked away, Gaby clenched her small hand and sent it straight into Illya’s stomach. Illya was definitely used to harder hits but she did have a good arm on her. He rubbed his abs as Gaby raised an eyebrow at him. Napoleon did catch her shake the pain out of her hand though. Napoleon knew first hand how tough Illya was.

      “Not bad.” Illya remarked before grabbing her hand and showing her to leave her thumb outside her fist or risk breaking it. He showed her the correct angle and trajectory to get a satisfactory punch for her small frame and height. Explaining to tuck her other arm in to protect against hits and a way to get more momentum behind her swing, Illya twisted her torso in the correct form.

      “Fix her feet.” Napoleon pointed out after watching for a minute. Illya quickly showed Gaby where to place her feet and how to step into the punch. Napoleon was impressed as Gaby practiced a couple hooks. Despite how much vodka was in her system, Gaby was a fast learner. But then again, all three of them were. That’s why they made such a good team.

      “Come check her form, Cowboy.”

      Napoleon sighed before getting up and taking his place in front of Gaby. He held his hands up as targets and after checking her stance, Gaby gave a few swings that bit into his palms. It wasn’t much, but it was something. Gaby grinned dangerously as Napoleon nodded in Illya’s direction. Before Napoleon could defend himself, Gaby tackled him to the floor. Sitting on his chest, Gaby barked out a laugh at Napoleon’s expression.

     After climbing off, Gaby went and drank deeply from the vodka bottle. Napoleon sat up and met an upset gaze from Illya. He sighed internally. Just when everyone was getting along.

      “You are too good at that.”

      Gaby was dancing again, “I learn from the best.”

     She pulled a reluctant Illya into another dance. His smile returned. Napoleon relaxed. Drunk Gaby was too loose with her words, but this one time, it had helped to calm a Russian’s jealousy.

 

     Two hours later and Gaby was stretched across an armchair. Her left hand hung off the side, gripping the empty vodka bottle and her legs were draped over the arm, swinging aimlessly. Her half-lidded eyes watched Napoleon and Illya chat on the couch across the table from her. She was definitely trashed and they had to be too. They never spoke so casually about anything. Especially their pasts. But the alcohol had brought their walls down slightly and Gaby was upset with herself that she probably wouldn’t remember any of the conversation in the morning. They were both still sipping from their glasses since they had decided to open a second bottle of scotch an hour ago.

      Gaby closed her eyes and listened to the soft murmur of their voices. Napoleon’s real, authentic laugh made her eyes flick open again. Illya chuckled lightly. All of a sudden, Gaby’s chest was tight and her emotions were filling all of the linings in her lungs.

      She realized then, she loved these boys. And she was going to tell them.

      “Hey.”

      Her voice was groggy to her own ears, but both of them looked up at her. She could feel her mind clear up for a second as she sat up slowly.

      “You are the best partners anyone could ask for.”

      Her voice was steady as the words fell from her mouth. Illya’s blue eyes softened immensely. He had never heard anything like that in his entire life. Napoleon smiled and raised his glass toward Gaby.

      “We love you too, Gabes.”

      Her legs wobbled as she stood, but Gaby took confident steps onto and over the coffee table. She fell into the space between Napoleon and Illya and wrapped her small arms around their shoulders and yanked them into a loose hug. Napoleon chuckled lightly and Illya was surprisingly accepting of the public affection.

      They were like that for a couple minutes before both of the men began to twist away from her grip. Napoleon sat up and laughed as he saw Gaby passed out against Illya’s shoulder.

      “Not again.” Illya mumbled but his eyes were affectionate as he adjusted her to fit more comfortably on his arm. Napoleon sipped his drink as he watched the KGB agent turn into a love-sick puppy. If only Gaby knew how much he cared. Maybe she already did.

      Emptying his glass, Napoleon set it onto the table and stood up. His head rushed for a second and he felt his body sway to the side before he caught himself. Illya’s eyes followed Napoleon as he walked toward the one twin bed.

      “You guys can share the big bed. I had Gaby last time and I don’t want to deal with her midnight punches and kicks again.”

      Illya scoffed. Napoleon knew he was relieved. Lifting her gently into his arms, Illya carried Gaby to the bed. Pulling the covers back, he placed her down quietly and Napoleon watched as Illya’s fingers lingered in her hair before he pulled the covers over her. Illya stumbled slowly to the other side of the bed, stubbing his toe on the corner and growling out a few curses in Russian. He crawled into the bed and Napoleon turned off the light with the switch next to his bed. He could barely make out their bed with the moon beams sliding through the curtains, but he could see Illya turn to make sure Gaby was sleeping soundly.

     Gaby was right. He loved them.

     The next morning, Gaby stumbled out of the bed at noon, hurled her guts out in the bathroom, and made her way into the little kitchen area. Illya sat at the table with his elbows placed against the top and his hands covering his eyes. He hadn’t even taken a shower yet, which was very surprising and entertaining to see his hair messy. Gaby found the sight incredibly appealing. Napoleon was showered and clothed with an apron tied around his waist. Of course he was fine. He drank and slept like this every time they had days off. The only missing part was the naked woman that would have left by now. Gaby took her seat at the round table as Napoleon flipped an omelette. He turned with the pan still in his hand and a large smile on his face.

     “Breakfast?”


End file.
